December, 1981 $2.00 - Desert Magazine of the Southwest

FEAST FOR THE SOUL
Continued
we follow a dirt road through the
creosote and mesquite terrain leading
to the mountain.
At the base, mounds of tires and
combustibles mark the three paths to
the summit. The oldest and youngest
of the group climb the most gradual
trail, the young men take the steepest.
I follow the middle and am soon out of
breath and need to rest.
The bonfires can be seen for
miles and they announce the
Christmas season to
Southern New Mexico.
From my vantage point half-way up
the mountain, the Mesilla Valley
stretches North and South with bright
pools of water in the Rio Grande mirroring
the feeble sunshine. Tortugas is
an insignificant, raised cluster of adobe
houses now, but the intense red of the
Casa del Pueblo, Casa de Comida, and
tiny Capilla stand out from the rest of
the mud-colored structures. Many
people pass me carrying tires to prearranged
spots along the paths all the
way to the top of Tortugas Mountain;
they urge me on.
The climb proves to be a workout
for legs accustomed to walking on level
ground. At the top of the mountain, I
fall to a flat rock and rub the tight
muscles in my calves, noticing how the
shrine of La Virgen competes with the
university's white observatory for the
small crest. We have been walking for
nearly three hours.
A priest, robed in white and gold,
conducts an outdoor mass after all of
the pilgrims have congregated on the
summit. One woman remarks that she
is closer to God here, and I can understand
how she feels. The jagged peaks
of the Organ Mountains rise sharply
from the desert floor to the East, and
the rocky Dona Ana Mountains lay
directly to the North. A red-tailed
hawk circles high overhead—it does
seem peaceful and holy.
The afternoon passes quickly, while
the faithful fashion quiotes (walking
staffs) from yuccas and creosote
branches for the descent. Following
tradition, the elders dot the faces of
those who made the pilgrimage with
red paint. As the sun sets on the second
36 D'ecember, 1981
day of the festival, women and children
carefully pick their way down the
trails to the base. Back at Tortugas, a
huge bonfire is lit to guide the hikers to
the village.
It is dark when the men descend the
slopes. They light the mounds of tires
along the three paths on their journey
down, creating a bright pyramidal outline
against the black sky. The bonfires
can be seen from miles away and to
many residents of Southern New
Mexico, they announce the Christmas
season. Tortugans greet the pilgrims at
the village with a thanksgiving ritual
for their safe return. We huddle near
the flames of the bonfire until glowing
embers replace the thick wood used in
building the fire.
High mass held at the single-spired
adobe church, the Sanctuary of Our
Lady of Guadalupe, starts the activities
on December 12th—the Virgin's
Day. Following the service, pueblo
women, who have spent days preparing
the feast, invite everyone to the
huge lunch at the Casa de Comida.
There, they serve chile con carne and
albondigas (meatballs) from 11 a.m.
until they run out of food. Their warm
faces welcome the appetites of both the
congregation and visitors to the fiesta.
Soon after the meal, the dances
begin. Three other groups take turns
with Los Danzantes performing on
squares around the church. Los Indios
del Pueblo are the oldest group to pay
homage to La Virgen. The men wear
tan, fringed costumes while the women
wear black, ribboned dresses called
mantas. Members of the Aztecas de
Carrizo and Los Guadalupanos Azteca
adorn themselves in scarlet and yellow
with feathered headdresses. They
dance, shaking colorful gourds or raising
red bows and arrows to the sky.
Shadows lengthen and we hear the
clamor of church bells proclaiming the
emergence of the blue-robed image of
the Virgin from the church. Tribal
officers gather around the decorated
likeness, violins play, and are accompanied
by the steady drum beats. The
villagers join their leaders to sing songs
of joy to the Virgin of Guadalupe.
The procession follows the dusty
streets around the ceremonial buildings,
and I find myself squeezed between
dozens of other observers along
the edges. The rich colors of the
dancers' costumes swirl past as they
dance up to the patron saint, bow, turn
and run ahead. Children in the crowd
imitate the steps, then cover their ears
when the blasts from a 12-gauge shotgun
shatter the air to dispel evil spirits.
The multitude stops in front of the
Casa del Pueblo where the priest gives
a short benediction. We continue the
slow pace back to the church. The
Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe ends
as the Virgin is carried inside and the
luminarios on top of the Sanctuario are
lit.
Once again, the sun slips behind the
western bank of clouds, shooting
amber rays behind the dark church
before its final retreat. As the masses
disperse in the quiet twilight, I know
that I am among the growing number
of people who will return each year in
mid-December to the desert village of
Tortugas. It is a time for celebration,
renewal and promises kept to the Dark
Lady who appeared so long ago, so
many miles away. @
UNITED STATES
MEXICO
Las Cruees, New Mexico, home of the Tortugas
and the Feast for the Soul.
Pamela and Russell Bamert are full-time
freelancers based in Las Cruees, New Mexico.
They work regularly for New Mexico
magazine, and have had articles and
photography published in Chevron USA,
AAA World, Colorado magazine and
Lapidary Journal. After attending and
photographing the Feast of Our Lady of
Guadalupe for five years, they : ve come to
know and love the people of Tortugas.